She Who Loved a Mad Musician
by kuuderelife
Summary: Elizabeta Héderváry, the illegitimate child of a Hungarian prince, was taken from the streets to be put in an arranged marriage with Roderich Edelstein, an Austrian nobleman. Elizabeta, however, will soon discover that this incredible stroke of luck really is too good to be true. Rated T for language and some dialogue.
1. The Empty House

At first Elizabeta thought it would be nice to live in a mansion. Then she tried it.

It was a lovely house, for sure. There were dozens of enormous rooms with white marble floors, big windows framed by floor-length curtains, and life-sized portraits on the walls. But every room she entered was devoid of people. It took only a few days for the emptiness to get to her. For as long as she could remember she'd lived in crowded places: first a war camp, then a city. She was used to being completely surrounded day in and day out. But in the Edelstein house she was perpetually alone. There was only one resident besides Elizabeta, and she only saw him across the dinner table.

There were, however, an abundance of servants, so she tried to befriend them at first. She'd known many servants in the past, back when she lived in the city among the lower classes. But these servants were different. They were as polished and detached as the master of the house. If Elizabeta tried to start a conversation they would respond with as few words as they could and go back to their business.

That was something else she wasn't used to—having other people wait on her. In her former homes she had been busy from sunup to sunset. There were always swords to be sharpened and animals to be hunted, floors to be mopped and clothes to mend. In the mansion servants were there to dress her, make her bed, serve her food—every small and simple task was performed by the servants. Elizabeta was bored out of her mind after a month.

With all other options exhausted, she turned to the master of the house: Roderich Edelstein. Yes, he was an aristocrat, and she'd never liked aristocrats. But she needed _somebody_ to talk to.

Besides, he was her fiancé, and even though the marriage was arranged, Elizabeta thought some communication was in order.

She had learned a bit about him over the course of a few weeks. He was always between one minute and two hours late for meals. He tended to scribble odd symbols on a piece of lined paper while he ate. He complained about everything. And he never made eye contact with anyone. Especially not her.

Naturally, she was surprised when, thirty-nine days after she moved in, he spoke to her.

"Elizabeta, is that the only dress you own?"

She looked up at him, wide-eyed, and found he was staring at her. She looked down at her green cotton dress. "Ah, yes. Why?"

"It's shabby."

Elizabeta pursed her lips and managed to hold her tongue. (That dress, after all, was the finest one she'd ever had, and the only one she'd brought to the mansion.)

"I'm going to tell the servants to take your measurements." Roderich's gaze went back to his notes. "Expect three new dresses in your wardrobe by Sunday."

And that was the end of the conversation.

Two maids, standing behind Elizabeta, exchanged a small look. They knew how stingy Roderich was, and this gesture amazed them. Sadly, the generosity of it was lost on Elizabeta, who had not yet noticed the mended tears and frayed edges on Roderich's own clothes. She would only realize years later that he had been incredibly kind to her that day.


	2. An Unusual Day

**Author's Note:** _I'm trying to be as historically accurate as possible. This story takes place somewhere between 1760 and 1810, in the time of the Hapsburg Empire. Roman Catholicism was the official/primary religion of the Hapsburg Empire, so I thought APH Austria would probably be Catholic; in Hungary, at that time, it was Lutheranism, which is why APH Hungary is unfamiliar with the Catholic church. The clothing I mention is also from this time period. I'll explain background stuff like this in later chapters, too. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

When the maids opened the doors of Elizabeta's wardrobe on Sunday morning, the three dresses were hanging there as Roderich had promised. One was a deep cerulean with a small floral pattern, one was cream with criss-crossing lines, and the last was a gentle green, similar to the color of Elizabeta's old dress (which was still in the wardrobe alongside the new dresses).

"Maybe the white for Mass," one of the maids (a blonde named Mary) suggested.

"Yes," Elizabeta said softly, running her hand over the sleeve of said white dress. It was muslin—which, apparently, was what all the ladies were wearing. (Elizabeta had been surprised by this at first. When she was a child, every lady she saw wore lace and silk.)

The maids swapped her nightgown for a linen smock and tied on her corset and stays. They pulled two petticoats over her head, followed by the cream dress and then a matching stomacher.

"Master Edelstein will probably be running late again," said Mary, setting a straw hat on Elizabeta's head. "So you might want to wait for him indoors."

"Alright." Elizabeta waited for the maid to tie the hat's ribbon in place under her chin, then left the room.

She headed down the long upstairs hallway, every footstep followed by echoes. After a time, she looked behind her and, seeing nobody, began to whistle softly. The notes were amplified as they echoed up and down the hall.

She kept whistling as she walked down the front staircase until, to her surprise, Roderich entered the foyer and looked up at her. "So it's you. I knew I heard somebody whistling."

Elizabeta's face grew warm with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I was just—"

Roderich waved his hand dismissively. "I don't mind, so long as you can carry a tune." He continued on his way to the front doors and Elizabeta hurried to catch up.

(She knew that whistling was not ladylike. Her godmother had told her as much. But Elizabeta had a habit of whistling when she was surrounded by silence.)

Their shoes crunched on the gravel walkway that led to the carriage. A footman opened the side door and, to Elizabeta's surprise, Roderich offered her his hand to help her step up before he got in on the other side.

That was the first time he'd ever done that. Elizabeta curiously watched him for the duration of the drive, looking for some sort of explanation, but all Roderich did after that was stare out the side window in silence.

Mass went as it usually did—and Elizabeta was thoroughly confused the entire time. She was always late to sit and stand. And, unlike the many well-bred members of the congregation, she couldn't speak a word of Latin.

The staring didn't help, either. She could feel dozens of eyes looking upon her with contempt. Nice dresses or no, everybody could tell she was a street rat. But she had a feeling that her parentage had a lot to do with it, as well.

During the last hymn, though, the feeling increased tenfold, and Elizabeta glanced around the room to locate whoever was staring so intently at her. When she turned directly to her right, she realized it was Roderich.

She went silent as he stared into her eyes. His face was blank, but his eyes held a quality akin to fascination, or maybe awe. It was as if he was in a trance, and Elizabeta quickly became concerned. She opened her mouth to ask him if something was wrong, but at that moment he turned his head away.

He was definitely acting strangely. Well, more strangely than she had come to expect.

Mass ended and the ride home was uneventful. Roderich stopped to help Elizabeta out of the carriage and, on the way to the door, matched her pace step for step.

Once they were indoors he turned to face her. "Elizabeta, could you come with me?"

"What?"

"Just follow me."

"…alright."

Roderich started down the east hallway, and Elizabeta followed a distance behind him.

They had nearly reached the end of the hall before Roderich stopped in front of a pair of double doors. He opened one door, held it for Elizabeta, and closed it behind them.

This room had a lower ceiling than the other rooms. The deep purple curtains were nearly drawn shut and didn't let in much light. Tapestries lined the walls. There was a sort of wardrobe in the back, a desk and chair beneath one window, and, in the center of the room, a beautiful grand piano.

Roderich hurried over to the desk, got a piece of paper from it, and brought the paper to Elizabeta.

She looked at the words written on this paper as Roderich sat down at the piano.

"I wrote that last night. It's meant for a soprano, and none of the servants can sing soprano well." He looked up at her. "In short, Elizabeta, I need you to sing for me."


	3. Lady of the Skies

_Sorry for the long hiatus. I'll make an effort to post more regularly._

_Lady of the Skies is the title of Austria's song._

* * *

"...sing for you...?"

"Yes." Roderich responded, scrawling quick, messy notes in the margins of the paper.

Elizabeta watched him, furrowing her brow.

"Well? What do you say?"

Elizabeta cleared her throat. "O-of course. It's no trouble. I would be glad to."

"Very good." Roderich held the paper out to her. She gingerly took it, as if it were as fragile as an eggshell, and skimmed over the words and symbols that lined the page.

"I don't suppose you can read sheet music," Roderich said, watching her face carefully.

"No. I'm afraid I can't."

"I'll have to teach you, then." Roderich adjusted his position on the piano bench. "In the meantime, I'll play the notes for you."

He took a second to close his eyes and breath slowly, rhythmically, and then he began to play.

Elizabeta watched his hands as he did so. They moved slowly, gracefully over the keys. At first she was surprised, then intrigued. This same man furiously paced the hallways at midnight and snapped at the servants for putting away the clothes he left on the floor. She never would have guessed that he was also capable of such focus and calm.

"There. Do you think you can remember that?"

Elizabeta nodded. "I think so."

"Alright. Then let's begin."

Again Roderich closed his eyes and breathed steadily, then began to play. Elizabeta carefully waited until she heard a small pause, then began to sing.

_Among the stars she once lived, at the top of the skies  
__then she climbed down on the moonbeams and stardust  
__walking on air, never stopping, until her radiant eyes  
__fell on her prince, for fate said they must_

_His wealth and his glory became humble, shamed by  
__the goddess who came from afar, how he  
__longed to become humble, to stay at her side  
__but he is bound to the earth, and she is flying free._

Elizabeta peeked over the top of the paper at Roderich. His eyes were distant, as if he were in a trance.

"It needs work," he said suddenly.

"What?" Elizabeta exclaimed. "It was beautiful!"

"No, no. The rhythm, the melody- it's not there yet." He waved his hand dismissively. "Thank you for your help. I might call you back when it's worthy of your voice."

He brought the paper back to the desk and began scribbling more notes across it. Elizabeta took it that she was dismissed and quickly left the ornate music room. She went to her bedchamber, quickly changed into her old green dress, and sat down on the bed.

She didn't know much about music, but she knew skill when she heard it. And Roderich's effortless performance of complex melodies indicated that he had been pouring his entire being into his music for years.

So that's where he's always hidden away, Elizabeta thought. She smiled to herself; she now knew something significant about her husband-to-be.

Elizabeta wondered if she, too, could find a passion to occupy the empty hours she spent alone. She had tried needlework many times, as that seemed to be what ladies always did, but she was always tangling up the thread and jabbing her fingers. She wasn't very good at reading, since her only education had been from a kindly middle-aged soldier back at the war camp. Gardening and cooking were taken care of by the servants.

Elizabeta wracked her brain trying to think of something she could actually do without being deemed unladylike. Then it hit her. She sat bolt upright and exclaimed, "Equestrianism!"

On the way from the music room to his bedchamber, Roderich passed the grand hall and saw an odd scene.

"Oh, Miss Elizabeta! Are you hurt?! We'll call a doctor!" the servants cried, swarming around the young woman.

"But I'm walking, aren't I?" Elizabeta said impatiently, wiping mud and dirt off her face.

Roderich smiled ever so slightly and continued on his way.


	4. Leaden Words

Elizabeta flopped down onto her bed and gave an aggravated sigh.

Equestrianism hadn't worked for her, either. She'd been careful in choosing a horse from the stables- avoiding a hot-blooded chestnut and a timid, delicate white mare. She had selected a bay gelding precisely because he seemed sturdy and calm. And because he seemed sturdy and calm, she hadn't bothered to avoid the snake she noticed in the grass. The horse did not respond well.

Elizabeta had been thrown by horses before. Back at the war camp and in the city, someone would catch the horse and someone else would help her up. Occasionally there would be a boy nearby who would laugh hysterically at her misfortune. But at the Edelstein mansion, a dozen servants descended on her like a swarm of bees, fretting, trying to clean off her skirts, even picking her up to carry her inside. They had called a doctor, too, and he had said exactly what Elizabeta had been telling them for the last half-hour- she was only bruised and a little sore.

If only she had been out of sight of the house when she fell. Then she could have gotten back on the horse, gone back to the stables, and explain away the mud that was caked on her dress.

Above all, she felt an ominous cloud hanging over her. She had lost her temper back there. She didn't know yet what the repercussions might be- at best, it would be some gossip in the servants' quarters. At worst- she didn't really know.

"I'm trying," she said out loud to the empty chamber. "I'm trying my best." _...but you can't carve a pearl out of a pebble,_ she thought, _and I'm not sure if I'm even as good as a pebble._

Elizabeta curled up on her side to go to sleep. Moments later, she was interrupted by a small _plink_ on her window.

She decided it was probably a hapless insect carried away by the wind, and she closed her eyes.

Another _plink._ Another.

Though she certainly wasn't in the mood for visitors of any kind, the sound was impossible to ignore, so she got up and went to the window. Upon opening it wide she first saw a pale-haired young man standing below, and she was hit in the nose by another tiny rock before she could notice anything else.

"Dammit, Gilbert!" she growled. "What's wrong with you?!"

"Nice to see you too, Lizzie," said the albino, smirking.

"You've got a lot of nerve, Beilschmidt. I hope you have a hell of a good reason to be here, or I will come down there and-"

"Beat me to a paste, yeah, I got it. You haven't changed much. Come down here so we can talk."

Elizabeta clenched her teeth. "Fine."

She climbed over the windowsill and down the side of the house, finding handholds and footholds along the individual stones. She jumped down four feet from the ground.

"Okay, what is it?"

"You're wearing your nightgown."

"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed. What an astute observation."

Gilbert grinned. "Still got that sharp tongue, I see. My dad said I could learn a thing or two from you. 'That Elizabeta has spunk,' he'd say, and 'you're so lazy that Elizabeta could polish twenty pairs of boots and cook breakfast before you even woke up.'"

"Yes, I remember," Elizabeta said impatiently. "You, lazy bum. Me, spunky lass. Get to the point."

"Come on, Lizzie. It's been twelve years."

"Ja, and that's why I don't understand why you're here _now_."

A shadow appeared in Gilbert's eyes. He looked sideways, avoiding eye contact. "When I heard they were marrying you off to Edelstein, I got on my horse within the hour and was out of Prussia within the day. Look- we didn't get along when we were little, but you were the closest thing I had to a friend, so I need to say this."

He took a deep breath, looked her in the eye, and said, "Your fiancé is mad."

It took Elizabeta a second to process this. "...what?"

"You wouldn't know. You aren't nobility, and that must be why they chose you. No other girl would marry him."

"Why are you saying these things? Stop it!"

"Think about it, Liz! Really think about it! No self-respecting nobleman would marry the daughter of a prince and a wh-"

"_Do not_ speak about my mother that way!" Elizabeta snapped, her eyes blazing.

Gilbert went silent again, staring at her with a downtrodden expression. "I only want to help you."

"I'm can take care of myself, thanks," Elizabeta said. Her voice had turned cold.

Gilbert dipped his heaand turned away. "I believe it. Just- be careful going forward." Her cleared his throat. "I'll be on my way now."

Elizabeta watched in silence as he walked away from her. When he was nearing the wall he had presumably climbed over, she called out in a much softer voice. "Gilbert?"

He stopped, looking back at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Thank you anyway."

Gilbert nodded. "You're welcome,."

He climbed over the wall as Elizabeta scaled the side of the house. He untied his horse from a tree as she lay down on her bed.

As she was drifting off to sleep it ocurred to her that her meeting Gilbert ever again was unlikely. _Good riddance,_ she said to herself.

But regardless of what a fool he was, she found she could not easily brush way his words. They weighed down on her shoulders like lead even as she slept.


	5. Expectations

Elizabeta tried not to dwell on Gilbert's words. He was a ruffian, a trickster, and a little too foolish for his own good. But he had seemed sincere, for once, and that was what worried her.

The days went by and piled together into weeks, months.

Elizabeta, desparately bored, gave embroidery another try. And another. Another. One of the servants, a foreign woman, saw one of her attempts at a sampler and said she once met a pirate who could stitch better. Elizabeta decided that embroidery wasn't for her.

She ran into a mouse and fed it bread until it trusted her, then tried training it to stand on two legs, but a servant chased it out of her room while she was at Mass the following Sunday.

Roderich did not request that she sing again, but he did speak to her. At one point, after sleeping for over a day, he entered the dining room for dinner and said "Good morning." (He realized his mistake once he'd had coffee.) At another point Elizabeta sneezed on their way to Mass, and he offered her a handkerchief and said "Don't get sick, alright?"

He was still intimidating, yes, but Elizabeta was growing used to him. She didn't feel like she was walking on eggshells around him, at least.

Her life was falling into routine when it was, again, rocked by a wave of change that came in the form of a dressmaker at her chamber door.

"I have plenty of clothes," she said, upon seeing the woman's kit of sewing tools.

The woman looked at her as if she were a little dense. "Nothing suitable for a wedding, I should think."

Elizabeta paled. The whole idea of marriage had fallen out of her thoughts weeks ago, and it had just been thrown back, only this time she could feel it gaining on her.

The dressmaker took her measurements while she stood there, rigid. Then she left Elizabeta to her empty room. Elizabeta turned toward the mirror and slowly looked herself up and down. Her feet, a little large for her stature. Her legs, strong from years of running. Her torso, which was growing accustomed to the corset she wore now. Her face, long and still a little deep in complexion, even after months of staying indoors. Her eyes, which looked a little sad, under a forehead tense with anxiety.

"I... a bride?" she whispered. She was not yet comfortable with her role among the nobility. But now she was to be married?

She didn't even know what a marriage should look like. She had been raised by a single woman of ill repute, then a couple in their fifties that argued more than anything. From what she'd seen in the city, though, a married woman was a sullen woman, carrying a baby with one hand and leading a child with the other.

She couldn't even think about children. How was she supposed to care for a small and fragile creature like a child? Would she have to raise them single-handedly while their father was engulfed in his music?

She fell onto her bed and buried her face in a pillow, completely overwhelmed. But then there was a knock on the door.

"Miss Elizabeta, Mr. Edelstein requests your presence in the drawing room."

The ticking of the clock on the mantle was oppressive. Roderich stood at the window,his back to Elizabeta.

"...measured for a suit today," he muttered. "And you for a dress, I heard."

"That's right."

Roderich looked at Elizabeta out of the corner of his eye. "I imagine you must be frightened by the idea of standing before hundreds of people."

"Well..."

"Be honest."

"...yes."

"As I thought. With that in mind, I have concluded that instead of having a big ceremony, we have our papers signed and be done with it. How does that sound?"

Elizabeta was too surprised to respond.

"My mother and father only said we must be married, not that we must be married with every aristocrat in Germany watching."

"I suppose that's so. But-"

Roderich turned around fully, and from where Elizabeta sat, she could see his face more clearly than she ever had.

"But what?" he prompted.

Elizabeta tried to break eye contact with him, but found she was transfixed. "I..."

Roderich's face flushed a little. "Well? Out with it," he said, trying to hide the nervousness her gaze brought him.

"I... I thought that that was the way it needs to be done. Marriage. In front of a crowd."

"No. That's just the expected way." Roderich slowly walked past the chair where Elizabeta sat. "And I don't typically bother myself with expectations."

He walked out of the room and left Elizabeta feeling a little more confused.


	6. Belated Courtship

The next day was a Tuesday. Early in the morning Roderich sent a servant out to the home of the local priest, wanting to know how soon he could hold a simple marriage ceremony. The priest said he had a sufficient span of time available on Thursday morning. Now Elizabeta's marriage was painfully close. She wondered why Roderich didn't postpone it. He could have postponed it.

He actually had an explanation, which he gave her in the hallway on their way to that evening's dinner. "I thought we should wed as soon as possible," he said suddenly, startling her. "Best to just get it over with."

Elizabeta nodded and walked into the dining room.

"Did that sound rude?" Roderich muttered to himself behind her. She could just barely hear him.

That night she was visited by an old recurrent dream. It was a scene from her childhood: she was four years old and back at the army camp. All of the soldiers and the families that followed them were standing together, their eyes fixed on the road ahead of them. She was wearing the castoff pants and shirt of a soldier's son, and that soldier had hoisted her up to sit on his shoulders. Gilbert's cousin had done the same with him, so she could see him clearly even though he was a distance away. He was making faces at her.

The crowd was wild with cheering and whistling. There was a procession of horses going by, carrying important and distinguished men who Elizabeta neither noticed nor cared for. She was looking for someone specific — someone who had the same green eyes and light brown hair as she did.

Her mother stood next to the soldier who had lifted her up. What had her mother's name been? She couldn't remember — how shameful was that? But she remembered and saw clearly her mother's blonde hair, let down and flying loose around her shoulders, and her wide brown eyes, darting back and forth up and down the procession.

Then the crowd went silent. It was as if someone had clapped a hand over everyone's mouth at the same time. The only sound was that of the horses' hooves on the road. Their focus was trained on one person — a spectacularly dressed man who towered into the sky. He had green eyes and light brown hair.

Elizabeta filled her lungs with air and shouted, "Papa!"

Her mother's face reddened with embarrassment. "Eliza, hush! He won't recognize you," she whispered.

The man looked straight at Elizabeta, and his eyes flashed with recognition. Then he frowned and turned his head away.

There was a time when Elizabeta would waken from that dream with her face wet from crying, but she had gotten past that. Instead, that scene calmly melted into another. It was a big room filled with wealthy and glamorous people. Slow, somber music was coming from musicians she couldn't see.

There was a lot of whispering, and everyone seemed to be stealing glances at the western corner of the room. Elizabeta stood on her toes and craned her neck to see over the shoulders of the partygoers. She found that she herself was seated in that corner, wearing a gray dress, her hands folded in her lap and her back rigid. There was a small boy to her left and a little girl to her right, both of them clinging to her arms and staring over at the corner's fourth occupant: Roderich.

The children looked frightened, even afraid of him, and she could see their mouths moving as they looked up at her. They were asking her for comfort and protection and she was offering them neither. Her eyes were blank, unfocused, and fixated on nothing.

When she woke up she made a decision: she was going to talk to Roderich. She was going to be acquainted with him by the end of that day. She would not be so distant from Roderich that he felt like a stranger.

While at breakfast she made her first move in this direction. She quietly cleared her throat, then said, "Hopefully this rain ends soon."

Her voice cracked and grew louder than she had intended, startling Roderich and the two servants in the room. Roderich quickly composed himself and said, "Yes. I hate rain."

In retrospect, he did seem to complain more on rainy days, particularly Sundays, since he had to go outside on Sundays.

It was quiet for a little while, and then Elizabeta started again. "What are you working on right now?"

"What am I...? Oh, I'm composing a piece for the violin."

"Ah, I see. If you don't mind me asking, what is it like?"

Roderich pushed his plate to the side and leaned a little closer toward Elizabeta, who was seated across from him. There was a spark of enthusiasm in his eyes as he spoke. "It's a complex piece meant to evoke wariness and anxiety. I started it a few days ago and now I'm refining it."

"Anxiety? I've heard of happy and sad songs, but never anxious ones. Sounds interesting."

"Well, it's a theme I like. I've composed twenty-seven pieces based on emotions. I try to be innovative and compelling." He averted his eyes and added, "Also, writing and playing that sort of piece helps me deal with — difficult feelings."

"That makes sense. I once had a friend that sang whenever she was upset. It really helped her. Music can be... well, healing, I guess."

Roderich gave Elizabeta a little smile — one of gratitude. That smile gave Elizabeta a tiny spark of hope.


	7. Married

The rain let up that evening, so Elizabeta went right outside to take a quick walk, since more dark clouds were on the horizon. Her walk was cut short, though, when Roderich came running out of the house calling her name. Thoroughly surprised — not unpleasantly, though — she stopped so he could catch up with her. When he did, he nearly fell. She caught him and helped him stand.

He clearly wasn't used to physical exertion — he was practically gasping for air, and his face was deep red. (The latter was partially due to Elizabeta catching him as he fell, but she didn't know that.)

"Roderich! Is something the matter?" Elizabeta cried, still holding him up for fear he'd fall again.

Roderich took a second to catch his breath before saying, "No."

"Then why—"

"I want to talk to you." His face got a touch redder. "Alone."

Elizabeta's face became a bit red, too, but she nodded. "Alright. What is it?"

"There are a few rules I would like you to follow in the future, once we're married."

Elizabeta's spirits sunk a little with those words, but only for a moment.

"The first rule: there is no place in this house where you may not go. It is yours to roam. The second: don't bother yourself with acting or speaking in a certain way. You can whistle, swear, walk around without shoes, anything. The third: you may come into my music room whenever you want." He nervously adjusted his glasses. "You are always welcome."

"I thought you hated it when people interrupt your work."

"Typically I do. But your presence I don't mind. I... I enjoy it." Roderich stole a glance at Elizabeta's face. "Presumably you've heard me yelling at servants by now, but believe me when I say I would never, never yell at you."

A long pause hung in the air between them while Elizabeta processed this.

"That is all," Roderich said after a moment. He turned to walk back indoors.

"Roderich, wait."

Roderich paused as Elizabeta came up beside him and froze when she linked her arm with his.

"Sorry," Elizabeta said quickly, starting to draw her arm away when she sensed his discomfort.

"No, please. If it makes you happy, do it."

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all."

They walked back indoors together, bid one another good night in the foyer, and went their separate ways: Elizabeta to her bedchamber for some much-needed sleep and Roderich to his music room to sort his thoughts out through piano.

The next morning Elizabeta rose early to dress and ready herself for the marriage ceremony. She brushed her hair out and then tried to pin it up, but eventually decided that it was too difficult and tedious. She let it down and put on her shoes, corset, petticoat, and dress. Too nervous to eat, she went directly outdoors to the carriage and, to her surprise, Roderich was already there, dressed in fine clothes that were pressed, ironed, and brand new.

"Good morning, Roderich," Elizabeta said as she stepped into the carriage.

"Good morning."

Elizabeta sat down across from him and brushed imaginary dirt off her skirts. She glanced up at Roderich. He had taken his glasses off to clean them, though they were not dirty, and, instead of putting them back on, was fidgeting with them. He crossed his arms, uncrossed them, looked out the window, looked at his shoes.

They were almost at the chapel when Elizabeta spoke.

"Don't be nervous."

"Nervous?" Roderich's voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "I'm not nervous."

"We won't be in front of a crowd. We'll just say our vows and get out of there. Then you can play your piano for the rest of the day, if that's what you need to feel calm."

"No," Roderich said abruptly. "That wouldn't be fair to you."

The carriage came to a stop. Elizabeta, then Roderich, stepped out of it, and they walked into the chapel alone. It was empty, save for the priest, who was waiting for them at the lectern. As they got closer, he started to look concerned; Roderich seemed to be holding his breath, and his face was flushed. Thus the priest hurried through the vows so quickly Elizabeta couldn't make out what he was saying until it was time for her to say "I do."

"Now kiss her," the priest said.

Roderich's face got several shades redder, and Elizabeta felt her face grow warm, as well. She stood rigidly, closed her eyes, and waited.

She felt him come closer to her, stand right in front of her. She felt him begin to take her hands in his, then stop and draw his hands away. She heard him take a deep breath, and then she felt his lips, soft and uncertain, press briefly against the corner of her mouth.

"Now go, before this man falls unconscious," the priest said, waving his hands in a shooing motion at them.

Elizabeta linked arms with Roderich as she had the day before and guided him back to the carriage. He seemed to be in a daze, his chin tilted upward and his eyes looking intently at the sky. He was silent all the way back to the house, and the moment the carriage stopped he jumped out and raced to his music room. When Elizabeta entered the house, notes on the piano were already wandering the halls. She found the door ajar and let herself in.

Roderich's head was bowed over the piano while his fingers meandered over the keys. Without stopping, he said, "Please come in. And close the door."

Elizabeta pulled the door shut and stepped further into the room.

"Come here. Sit beside me."

This was new. Elizabeta approached the piano and alighted on the bench, sliding as close to Roderich as she could. She watched his hands move over the piano keys, then pause and come to a rest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to kiss you in front of someone."

"Oh. That's alright. I was uncomfortable, too."

"So you took no offense?"

"No."

Roderich sighed. "Good."

There was a long pause. Roderich began playing his piano again to fill the silence. Elizabeta watched his eyes close as he immersed himself in the music. They sat like that for hours, until Roderich stopped abruptly and turned to Elizabeta.

"Elizabeta, I'm sorry if I've come off as cold or unkind. I don't intend to."

"It's fine, Roderich."

"No, it's not. You're a good woman and my wife. That you are intimidated into silence at my presence is unacceptable. I have made you miserable."

"Roderich," Elizabeta said softly. She placed her hand over his, causing him to tense in surprise. "I'm not miserable."

He looked at her uncertainly.

"Sitting here listening to your music has made me happy," she added.

"Should I continue, then?"

"Yes," Elizabeta said, drawing her hand back to her side so Roderich could play.

The piece he played next was slow, soft, and gentle. Both he and Elizabeta became immersed in the music, and they sat, as if in a trance, until the evening arrived.


End file.
